The Last One(49)
Meghan’s voice held no condemnation or hurt, but I still winced. She made it sound so harsh. “It’s just too hard to explain things like this to Ali, and Bridge would start designing you a wedding gown. She’s young, and she’s impressionable. For her, there’s a strict order to life. You kiss a boy, you wear a white dress, and you live happily ever after. I don’t want to disillusion her yet.”
“I understand.” Meghan slid her hands behind my neck. “So we’re talking clandestine make-out sessions in the orchard? Sneaking around after bedtime, meeting in the barn for a quick roll in the hay?”
I trailed my fingers down her side, over her ribs and then back up to her still-exposed breasts. They were too tempting, and I leaned forward to touch my lips to one stiff nipple. “We don’t have hay in the barn. Just farm equipment. Nothing that would be comfortable enough for what you’re suggesting.” I bit gently on the rosy peak.
She smiled and massaged the back of my neck, holding me in place as her eyes drifted closed. “What kind of farm doesn’t have hay in the barn?”
“The kind that doesn’t have animals. And if you object to our hay-free farm, you can join Bridget’s campaign for horses. Won’t do any good, though. We can’t afford to feed them yet. Maybe someday.” I eased her bra and shirt back into place. “God, I could sit here all night with you on my lap, doing this. Except I’d be so tired in the morning, I wouldn’t get anything done tomorrow.”
“I think tomorrow is today.” Meghan shifted to adjust her bra, cupping her hand around my jaw with gentle fingers as she leaned back. “And I know you need your sleep.”
“Yeah, I do.” I wasn’t sure exactly where we stood. Were we going to be summer fuck buddies, for as long as I could hide that from my snooping sister? Or were we back to being just friends again?
“This is your show, Sam.” Speaking as though she’d read my mind, Meghan eased off my lap and stood up. “When you want me, you know where I am. I won’t push. If you wake up tomorrow—well, in the morning, at any rate—and decide it’s a bad idea again, you don’t have to explain anything to me. I’ll figure it out.” She laid her hands on my shoulder and bent so that her lips were against my ear. “But if you need something to help you make up your mind, to help you sleep, know that in my bed tonight, I’ll be thinking of you.” She straightened, keeping her eyes pinned to mine as she ran her tongue over her lips and then skimmed fingers over her own breasts.
My mouth went dry. At that moment, I didn’t care about waking up Ali, Bridget or everyone in ten-mile radius. I wanted her on the porch floor, under me, writhing. I needed to be inside her, making her scream my name, more than I needed my next heartbeat.
But Meghan only smiled and touched one finger to my cheek. “Night, Sam. Sweet dreams.”
I watched her hips sway back across the porch and through the front door. She held it carefully so that it didn’t slam, and then her footsteps disappeared in the direction of her bedroom.
God, what kind of self-flagellating fool was I?
I DIDN’T SLEEP WELL. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Meghan touching herself, and I woke more than once with a painful hardness between my legs. I mumbled a curse against her and all women as I rolled over and tried to get comfortable. It was a losing battle.
I gave up at sunrise. After a quick shower, I dressed and snuck down to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. I was going to need at least that much today. The rest of the house was silent. I expected my sister would sleep in after her big night out, and Bridget was never an early riser. Slipping into Meghan’s room and taking care of what seemed to be a permanent erection was tempting but too risky. In the light of day, I knew I’d been right about keeping whatever happened between the two of us a secret from Ali. And maybe if I kept my distance from Meghan, I’d be able to avoid doing anything that would have to be kept a secret.
I left the house with my coffee and drove to the field farthest from the house. Yeah, distance was the best thing. I liked to think I was strong, but the last few weeks had let me know that any time I was close to Meghan, my self-control seemed to vanish. Staying out of her path today, when I wasn’t sure exactly where we stood, felt like a good plan.
By the time I ran out of excuses to keep me away from the house, it was past dinner-time. I parked the truck by the shed as usual and washed up, taking my sweet time doing it. Ali was going to blast me for being late for a meal, I knew, so why rush toward trouble?
To my surprise, though, it was laughter that I heard when I swung open the screen door to the kitchen. My sister and Meghan were standing at the counter, peeling and chopping carrots and cucumbers. A huge salad bowl sat between the two cutting boards.